Some day of... some season. I've lost track of time.
Hi. Lilith here. I'm writing these little letters mostly to myself, but... in case anyone's curious, I'll be making scribbled up re-writes and leaving them in... mostly safe, if winnowed hands. I'm writing this story - the story of my life - so that you can understand. I'm writing it as objective... truthful... as my mind allows me to at this point. Though, I can't promise total coherency. Sometimes, I can't promise I'm even really around. My mind goes... so many places, few of them waking.
My story has always been the story of others. I've always circled around other people - never really been myself, or wholly 'independent'. Maybe that's why I chose Aberration... I could be with someone, something, all the time. Even though he rarely talks... or laughs... or really does anything other than feed. My life is a story about other people, and so, I'm going to describe the... eating from the lens of Auriel, my Harvester.
But this first entry isn't about Auriel. It isn't really about anyone, it's... just me, saying hello. To the only friend I have - a pen. Expect lots of entries, because... I'm not really kept on my toes anymore. Everything's become predictable, just a sound creeping in from the corners. I need something to fill in the, whispering, silence. For now, until I find something less lonely, that will be this pen... and these letters to me.
Forever Hated,
Lilith Odam
Lilith's prologue. That was the first note, at the first scene.
The one he missed.
In some ways, his poor investigative skills meant nothing. The Devourer needed to die regardless of her motivations... and Alistair cared little for acknowledging them. In his view, all of these murders were random, all on innocent and unlucky individuals.
But he was wrong. Perhaps he would know that, soon, if he found her. Perhaps he would never know, even as a spear extended from her corpse.
If she died, it probably didn't matter.
Lilith drew nearer to them with each and every step they made, as she prepared her kills. One - a slave; follower to Lisirra's will. Two, a warrior, guarding the broken man with his blade and soul. Three, a harlot, though in truth a transmitter of hungering illness. Four, a child... innocent and bright, yet kin to a Defiler as she called them; a Yithnai. Two men, one woman, one little girl.
Those were the victims she sewed, and those were the ones he encountered, up on arriving in the coastal town of Hailen, on the western bay of Hyran. Unlike in Clairen, there was visible carnage, though it was more a casualty or accident than an intentional killer's modus operandi. The Plaguebearer, though some would call her the harlot, laid on the floor... snapped in half, with pieces of her interns strewn about on the solid ground. She was bitten cleanly into two sections, gashed by jutting fangs before being expelled by Lilith's maw.
But why? Why not swallow her, too? What was the purpose of the inconsistency? Did Lilith... have a capacity? Did she grow full?
"Damien," called the younger mage. "Will you check her...?" he asked. The implication was clear: he wanted Damien to browse through her guts and mangled bits, seeking something meaningful. Lilith was exceptionally clean, and proficient in undertaking her victims. This was a rare, and golden, opportunity.
Hi. Lilith here. I'm writing these little letters mostly to myself, but... in case anyone's curious, I'll be making scribbled up re-writes and leaving them in... mostly safe, if winnowed hands. I'm writing this story - the story of my life - so that you can understand. I'm writing it as objective... truthful... as my mind allows me to at this point. Though, I can't promise total coherency. Sometimes, I can't promise I'm even really around. My mind goes... so many places, few of them waking.
My story has always been the story of others. I've always circled around other people - never really been myself, or wholly 'independent'. Maybe that's why I chose Aberration... I could be with someone, something, all the time. Even though he rarely talks... or laughs... or really does anything other than feed. My life is a story about other people, and so, I'm going to describe the... eating from the lens of Auriel, my Harvester.
But this first entry isn't about Auriel. It isn't really about anyone, it's... just me, saying hello. To the only friend I have - a pen. Expect lots of entries, because... I'm not really kept on my toes anymore. Everything's become predictable, just a sound creeping in from the corners. I need something to fill in the, whispering, silence. For now, until I find something less lonely, that will be this pen... and these letters to me.
Forever Hated,
Lilith Odam
Lilith's prologue. That was the first note, at the first scene.
The one he missed.
In some ways, his poor investigative skills meant nothing. The Devourer needed to die regardless of her motivations... and Alistair cared little for acknowledging them. In his view, all of these murders were random, all on innocent and unlucky individuals.
But he was wrong. Perhaps he would know that, soon, if he found her. Perhaps he would never know, even as a spear extended from her corpse.
If she died, it probably didn't matter.
Lilith drew nearer to them with each and every step they made, as she prepared her kills. One - a slave; follower to Lisirra's will. Two, a warrior, guarding the broken man with his blade and soul. Three, a harlot, though in truth a transmitter of hungering illness. Four, a child... innocent and bright, yet kin to a Defiler as she called them; a Yithnai. Two men, one woman, one little girl.
Those were the victims she sewed, and those were the ones he encountered, up on arriving in the coastal town of Hailen, on the western bay of Hyran. Unlike in Clairen, there was visible carnage, though it was more a casualty or accident than an intentional killer's modus operandi. The Plaguebearer, though some would call her the harlot, laid on the floor... snapped in half, with pieces of her interns strewn about on the solid ground. She was bitten cleanly into two sections, gashed by jutting fangs before being expelled by Lilith's maw.
But why? Why not swallow her, too? What was the purpose of the inconsistency? Did Lilith... have a capacity? Did she grow full?
"Damien," called the younger mage. "Will you check her...?" he asked. The implication was clear: he wanted Damien to browse through her guts and mangled bits, seeking something meaningful. Lilith was exceptionally clean, and proficient in undertaking her victims. This was a rare, and golden, opportunity.
